


In Frame

by coolbyrne



Category: Rizzoli & Isles
Genre: F/F, Rizzoli & Isles |, fan fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 22:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3464720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captured moments in pictures, Jane realizes something she’s known all along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Frame

TITLE: In Frame

AUTHOR: coolbyrne

RATING: T

SUMMARY: Captured moments in pictures, Jane realizes something she’s known all along.

A/N: This was a prompt of sorts on Tumblr. Something about one of the characters finding a photo of the two of them and discovering the scope of the other’s feelings. Another little slice of life that changes both of them.Thanks to my beta reader, RomanMachine/happycamper5. We take great photos together.

…..

She nudged the door open with her foot, and the welcoming scent of baked goods wafted towards her. Dropping the six bags on the floor, she shouldered the door closed and collapsed against it with a sigh.

Angela looked up from the kitchen island. “You’re back early.” Glancing around her daughter, she asked, “Where’s Maura?”

“Somewhere between Dolce and Gabbana the last time I saw her.” Jane pushed herself away from the door and dragged herself into the kitchen.

“You left her alone in the mall? This time of year? Jane!”

She ignored her mother’s accusations, and popped a shortbread cookie into her mouth. She moaned as the butter melted on her tongue and reached for another.

Angela slapped her hand. “You get one. Poor Maura.”

“Yeah,” Jane replied, “poor Maura, with an unlimited credit card and a lineup of grovelling sales people more than happy to help her.”

“All the more reason not to leave her alone. What if they try to take advantage of her?”

“Ma, have you met Maura? She’s more than capable of taking care of herself. She’s gonna call when she’s ready to come home.”

This seemed to appease the older woman, and she let it go in favour of focussing on kneading her flour.

“Are you making struffoli?” Jane asked.

“I am.”

“Wow, Ma, you haven’t made that since we were kids.”

Angela shrugged. “I thought it was time to start new again. It’s gonna be the first Christmas without your father…”

Jane put an arm around her mother’s shoulder and pressed a kiss into her hair. “It’ll be great. And you know Maura will love the fact you’ve gone to all the trouble.”

“Oh!” Angela said. “Did you pick up those pictures?”

Walking back to the bags, Jane dug around for a moment until she raised her hand in victory. “Ah ha!” She returned to the kitchen and dropped the fat envelope onto the counter. “You know, the advantage of digital is so you can look at them before you destroy half a rainforest getting them printed.”

“Very funny. You know I can barely see anything on those little screens. How can I tell if Frankie’s got the pink eye in that little space?”

“Red eye, Ma,” she corrected.

“Red, pink, whatever.” She turned and plugged in the kettle. “Why don’t you go sit down and pick out a nice picture I can get framed for Maura? Not that I blame her for not having any family photos around, but I think she’ll like one of all of us, don’t you?”

Jane smiled warmly at her mother’s thoughtfulness. The woman could be the biggest pain in the ass, but she had embraced Maura from the very beginning. “I think it’s a great idea.”

“Good. Now go sit down.” She shooed Jane into the living room, tapping her with the pictures. “I’ll bring you some hot chocolate when it’s ready.”

“With the little marshmallows?”

Angela rolled her eyes. “Yes, with the little marshmallows.”

Jane flopped onto the couch, ignoring her mother’s tut of displeasure, and made a display of propping her feet up on the coffee table. “What? My boots are off.” Not waiting for a response, Jane turned her attention to the envelope. With an exaggerated groan, she dropped the pile onto her lap.

“Make sure it’s one with all of us in it.”

“I get it, Ma,” she called over her shoulder. The very first photo reminded her of the occasion. “You took a picture of the turkey?”

“That was a gorgeous turkey,” Angela replied. “I make no apologies.”

It was delicious, too, based on the photos that followed. Or maybe it was the wine Maura had donated to the cause. As Jane flipped through the stack, it was shot after shot of Frankie, Tommy, Korsak, the whole clan, in various stages of eating or salutations.

“I forgot Nina and Frankie had that pie eating contest.”

“Oh my goodness,” Angela chuckled. “Such a tiny girl. Put poor Frankie to shame.”

“He’s still trying to live that one down at the station,” she told her. “Did you have to get five pictures of TJ in mid-spit up?”

The kettle whistled. “He does that just to aggravate me, I swear.”

“Yes, he’s a vindictive little toddler, isn’t he?”

Angela glowered. “All right, so I’m no Picasso.”

“Picasso was a painter.”

“Do you want this hot chocolate or not?”

Jane held out her hands gleefully. “Want. Gimme.”

Angela carefully handed it her and shook her head. “Less critical commentary and more looking.” She set a coaster down and placed a cookie beside it.

“Love you, Ma.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Photo after photo was much the same. Moments caught a fraction too soon or too late. She was almost halfway through the pile when she hit the jackpot- a perfect image of the entire group, crowded tightly together, looking up at the camera. The picture reminded her of a moment she had forgotten; Cavanaugh had surprised everyone by cobbling together a makeshift tripod and setting the camera’s timer so they could all be in the shot. The result was exactly what her mother wanted. She was just about to call her over when she saw the photo beneath it.

An image, perfectly centered, of her and Maura.

Unlike the group shot, she had no recollection of who took this picture or when. Surely, she thought, she’d remember this moment. A moment with just the two of them, sitting at the table, Maura’s arm looped through her’s. A moment where Maura’s forehead was resting against her temple, both of them with their eyes closed, clearly enjoying a private joke.

A warmth blossomed through Jane, catching her off guard.

She quickly brushed it aside, dismissing it as a simple photo, with no more meaning than that. But curiosity got the best of her, and her detective instincts would not be denied. With new eyes, she quickly flipped through the remainder of the pile, and revisited those she had already seen. The evidence was compelling. Every picture showing both her and Maura held a variation of the same story. A smile, a look, a touch. It didn’t matter if they were alone or with others. The connection, either tactile or intangible, was always there. One picture showed Jane listening to Cavanaugh, while Maura gazed intently at her. Another captured Jane holding a fork to Maura’s lips, her eyes closed in anticipation while Jane smiled in delight.

Jane shut her eyes at the familiarity of it all, having it now laid out. How many of these moments did they share every day? How many were never captured in film, but were etched in her mind?

 _A moment between friends_ , she would quickly describe, if anyone had asked. But that would clearly be a lie.

She wondered how long she’d been telling it to herself.

“Did you find something?” Angela asked, oblivious to the double meaning.

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, Ma. I think there’s one here she’ll really like.”

“Oh good!” her mother replied, wiping her hands on her apron and making her way to the couch. Her trip was halted by the sound of a key in the door. She quickly returned to the kitchen and gave Jane a look.

She rolled her eyes at the silent shushing. “I know!” she firmly whispered. Turning her attention to the door, she couldn’t help but smile. With the grace borne of a woman accustomed to carrying a multitude of shopping bags, Maura stepped inside and gently placed her purchases beside Jane’s. “Finished already? Or is this just a pitstop?”

Maura shook the light snow off her shoulders and returned the sarcasm with a playful glower. “I’m done. For now.”

Jane groaned at the lightly veiled warning. “Why didn’t you call? I would’ve picked you up.”

“Oh, I know,” she replied, removing her coat and boots. “But I thought I’d show my appreciation for you coming in the first place by not dragging you out a second time.”

“For now.”

Maura smiled. “For now. What have you been up to?”

“Trying to eat all the shortbread cookies,” Angela said.

“I don’t know if I can blame her,” Maura said, sitting beside Jane. “Everything looks and smells wonderful.”

The older woman’s response was a bashful laugh and wave of her hand.

Jane leaned in close. “You are so smooth.”

With a wink, Maura nudged Jane’s shoulder. “So what  _have_  you been up to?”

She had tucked two photos under her thigh, away from Maura’s inquisitive eyes. Holding up the stack, she said, “Just looking at all the blackmail pictures Ma took at the Thanksgiving dinner.”

Maura glanced at the first one. “That was a lovely turkey, Angela.”

There was a victorious “Ha!” from the kitchen, and Jane rolled her eyes. “Don’t encourage her, Maura.”

“Oh, Frankie doesn’t look well.”

Maura pointed to the next photo, and Jane laughed. “That was the tail end of the pie-eating contest.”

“I made you some hot chocolate, Maura,” Angela said, slowly walking towards them, eyes locked on the cup.

“That’s lovely, Angela. Thank you.”

As Maura reached for the drink, Jane surreptitiously slid the family photo to her mother, who discreetly tucked it into her apron.

“I’m just letting the dough rest, so don’t you girls worry about anything. I’ve got to run over to the guest house. Don’t let her eat all the cookies.” The last comment was directed at Maura, but Angela’s steely gaze was aimed at Jane.

“Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, while secretly admiring her mother’s guile.

Alone, Jane leaned back and rested her arm along the back of the couch as Maura continued through the photos. It didn’t take her long before she came upon the batch that Jane had separated from the rest. They were all pictures of the two of them. Jane watched as Maura’s face went from open contentment to quiet uncertainty to obvious embarrassment. She gently tucked a strand of hair behind Maura’s ear.

Slowly, she reached for the photo nestled under her leg and held it face down on her lap. Before revealing it to Maura, she whispered, “I’ve heard a picture is worth a thousand words.”

Caught off-guard, Maura fell back on what she knew. “It was originally used by newspaper editor Arthur Brisbane in 1911, though it is commonly attributed to-” She stopped, recognizing the response for what it was.

Jane turned over the photo. “In a thousand words or less, what does that say to you, Maura?”

Her hand shook as she took the picture, her thumb softly brushing across Jane’s image. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice so quiet it was barely audible. “Three words,” she nervously chuckled. The small smile slowly faded. “I thought I’d hidden it so well.”

Jane caught a tear that rolled down Maura’s cheek. “So did I.”

The admission made Maura turn sharply.”What?”

“You used 3 words out of a 1000,” Jane said. “That leaves me with 900 and… 97.” They both found a place to smile at her math. “What am I supposed to say, Maura? You know I suck with words.”

Without warning, Maura leaned forward and pressed her lips to Jane’s. The surprise wore off quickly, and Jane returned the kiss with fervour and intent. The stack of photos fell to the floor as they reached for each other, shy, yet willing. It was the sound of the back door that finally pulled them apart.

Any doubt over what Angela saw was settled when she remarked, “When I said I thought it was time to start new, that’s not what I had in mind, but you know, that’s okay, too.”

“I’m gonna get you a bell for Christmas, Ma,” Jane vowed. “One you can wear around your neck, before I wring it.”

“Well done on the use of a homophone,” Maura praised.

Angela looked aghast. “I am in full support of that lifestyle!”

Maura frowned in confusion and Jane groaned. “She said ‘homophone’, Ma. Not ‘homophobe’. It’s when 2 words sound the same, but- why am I explaining this?”

Maura beamed. “You know what it means.”

Jane stood and held out her hands. “I may have picked up a thing or two around you. C’mon.”

“Speaking of picking up,” Angela said, “you might want to help Maura take everything upstairs instead of leaving it at the door.”

“She left stuff there, too!”

Quietly chuckling, Maura bent down and collected the photos that had fallen to the floor. She put the picture Jane had shown her on top of the pile and smiled. “Confucius.”

Jane raised an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“A picture is worth a thousand words,” Maura said. “It’s a saying that is often incorrectly attributed to Confucius.”

“Yeah, well, Angela Rizzoli says ‘No cleaning, no cookies’.” Jane took her hand and smiled. “So… are you with me?” The meaning was clear.

Maura looked down at the photo, then back up into deep warm eyes. “Definitely.”

-end.


End file.
